


Van der Linde Gang

by LadyTheWarrior



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys in Black Leather Jackets, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gangs, M/M, Modern Era, Outlaw motorbike Gangs, Sons of Anarchy setting but with Red Dead Redemption characters, Tattoees, alternative universe, more tags will be added, motors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTheWarrior/pseuds/LadyTheWarrior
Summary: "Set in the modern era, Van der Linde, under the presidency of Dutch van der Linde and Hosea Mattews, is a motorcycle gang that roles over the small town of Blackwater, operating both illegal and legal business. They combine running a bar downtown and owning a garage with gun-smuggling and robbery. Van der Linde values freedom and liberties above all else and dreams of living an independent existence. But when the life of crimes starts to root deep within the members, relationships start to crumble and form, people show their true colors, and the only way left for some to survive is the path of redemption.  "This story is a recreation of Red Dead Redemption and what it could have been if it happened in the modern era with a little bit of inspiration drawn from the Sons of Anarchy TV series.Exclaimer: I have no claim over the characters or even the plot and earn no profit from it. It's just a pure work of fiction, written for the enjoyment of Red Dead Redemption fans (myself included).
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Bessie Matthews/Hosea Matthews, Eliza/Arthur Morgan, Mary Gillis Linton/Arthur Morgan, Susan Grimshaw/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I added both Sons of Anarchy and Red Dead Redemption in the fandom section, just so you can see that the motorcycle gang wasn't purely my idea, I mashed up the plot of RDR and SOA just because I thought there were a lot of similarities between these two. If you haven't watched SOA that's totally fine, you can still read and enjoy this since I haven't included any of the SOA characters in this. This is more an RDR fanfic than an SOA. 
> 
> I enjoyed and loved writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it too.  
> (Also bear in mind I'm not a native English speaker so sometimes knowing all about the accents and how these characters pronounce words can get a little tricky but I'm doing my best)
> 
> Cheers,  
> your fellow fangirl Ellie

_**Prologue** _

It was still a few hours to midnight when Arthur parked his black and silver Harley-Davidson outside Tilly Jackson’s shop on Main Street. Her shop, located right on the outskirt of the town, was one of the many buildings and shops that Van der Linde motorbike gang owned. Arthur, wearing the black leather outlaw jacket with Van der Linde name printed on the back, took a deep breath of the fresh night air and let it out softly. Slow night at the club and an extreme desire to smoke when he found the empty cigarette case in his pocket made him leave early.

He half-expected to see Tilly on the porch as always, busy studying. The girl was a rare kind. Seven years ago, she and her family were part of a nasty gang in Chicago; her father got shot when she was only 12. Being in danger she and her mother, who was sick with cancer, decided to leave the big city and come here, where the Van der Linde club, being both the law and outlaw of old Blackwater, helped them back on her feet. Old man Hosea, the head of the club along with Dutch, were the ones who decided to lend them the shop and signed Tilly up for a good local school, so she could both study and have a part-time job to cover all the necessary expenses. Other folks, including Arthur, always made sure she was getting by fine.

Arthur walked up the stairs and pushed the door, a little bell rang as the front door opened. The small lobby was neat and tidy with shelves of food, supplies and groceries surrounding it from both sides. When Arthur approached the counter, Tilly looked up, a huge smile adorning her soft feature as she got on her feet.

“Arthur!” She greeted him warmly.

“How is it goin’, little miss Tilly?” asked Arthur already moving to grab a small basket off the counter “You study good?”

“Quite fine and yeah I think I’m killing it at school.”

“You was always a smart girl, decided which college you’re applyin’ yet?”

“I’m thinking law at Saint Denis University.”

“Why am I not surprised?” replied Arthur sarcastically.

Tilly only giggled in response as Arthur moved to the shelves to grab a box of biscuits and a few cans of food.

“How are you?” She asked cheerfully.

“Not bad,” Responded Arthur half-heartedly as his eyes drifted to a children's book section, a small smile crawled on his lips, “Actually… good.” He said walking to the shelf and picking a book. He put it in the basket and returned to the counter to face Tilly. Somehow if possible her dark eyes were shining with excitement a little more than the usual.

It made Arthur feel a little sheepish, he started scratching the back of his head when Tilly suddenly asked, “ You goin’ to see little Isaac?” 

“Yeah, the business here is slow, thought I’d take a break, go check on ‘em, see if they needed anythin’”

“How old is he now? Five? Six?”

“He’s gonna be six this weekend.” Arthur answered still the ghost of the smile haunting his whole feature as he took out his wallet, “Get a box of smokes too, darlin’?”

Tilly picked a box of cigarettes and a pack of candies from her the shelf in the back and put it in the bag with the rest of the purchases. “20 bucks, the book, and the candies are on me. “

“Thank you.” Said Arthur, putting the money on the counter to take the bag.

“Don’t mention it,” Tilly waved her hand, “You know Arthur, I’m happy for you, Eliza’s a lucky woman.”

“Oh I don’t think so Tilly,” Shrugging, Arthur already opened the cigar box and pulled out one, putting it to his lips,” We lived together or at least tried to for a few years but… with all’s been goin on, I just think she’s better off without me,”

“Come on you don’t mean that,” She leaned on the counter, a lighter in her hand as she flicked it open then snapped on the flint.

As the flame lit up, Arthur took a deep drag,” She’s a good woman,” he mumbled, “The kid is a delight too. I take care of them from time to time but they don’t need me ‘round them, you know how I am always messin’ things up.” Puffing on his cigar he added, “Besides Dutch needs me here; I just think… its better this way.”

“At least you’ve got some sense of responsibility,” Tilly said with a slight shrug, “Saw Abigail yesterday.” Drawing in a sharp breath, Arthur already knew where this was going. “She’s not happy Arthur.”

“Don’t I know it?” remarked Arthur disapprovingly.

“I mean, I thought folks in town cared for each other, at least you do. All John keeps giving Abigail is the cold shoulder and when he’s actually being communicative, he tells her to piss off!”

“That boy is an idiot.”

“Hey I’m not judging nobody here, John’s business is his but it’s a small town, people talk. “ She shook her head in frustration,” I can’t just sit around and watch Abigail in pain, she’s my friend Arthur.”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“To take the paternity test is all Abigail’s asking. ”

“Well that’s the whole issue, if he takes it, it’s gonna be real and he can’t run from it no more.”

“He has to face it sooner or later?”

Arthur took another deep drag on his cigar, blew it out, and cleared his voice before saying, “A’right miss Tilly, I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you Arthur, you’re so kind.”

“I don’t know nothing about kindness sweetheart,” He nodded one last time but as he was about to grab the bag and leave the store, Tilly’s frightened voice made his head snapped up fast.

“Oh god, what is that?” Arthur scowled, she looked petrified. He followed the direction of her gaze.

Orange, red, and violet flames were soaring into the night sky. The fire surging into a warehouse Arthur was all too familiar with, on the other side of the street lighting up the night over Blackwater as the smoke filled the air.

“Shit!” It took him mere seconds to overcome his shock, leaving the bag, he ran outside.


	2. Of Guns, Debts and Explosions-part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Van der Linde gang once again comes face to face with the rival gang, the O'Driscolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a lot of camp conversations in this and also changed some words such as Lemoyne Raiders to Lemoyone Riders just to fit with the atmosphere of fic.

“It’s a goddamn mess!”

Dutch felt anger rising inside of him as he walked amongst the ruins of the burnt building, followed by Arthur and Javier. 

The floor felt soft and spongy beneath their boots. The walls crumbled and in their place stood piles of burned wood, trash, and bricks, blackened and charred where the flames had licked at them. The ruins were still smoking from the last night and the faintest glow of embers could still be seen as he maneuvered around the creaking threshold. Black dust hung in the air, invaded his lungs, and fought the urge to cough and spit. What's worse was that everybody around the neighborhood was alerted, firemen, Sherriff Grey, and his deputies scattered all around the place. _It was indeed a mess_. 

“Are we sure all the guns are gone?” Dutch asked in painful recognition.

The guns they have stored in the warehouse were nowhere to be found. All that they've saved for an entire year, it screamed bad investment already. Everything burned and gone. Dutch already had an idea who might be responsible but he had to make sure first. It was no secret that the leader of the biker gang was mostly a man of manners, calm and composed in the face of the worse troubles but right now God knew it would have felt good to break a bone or two just to empty the aggression he felt. 

“All the M4s, most of the Glocks too,” In a hushed tone, Javier was the one who explained, constantly looking over his shoulder at the Sherriff, “Everything else either burned or destroyed completely.” 

“Propane tanks caught fire!” Dutch looked up at Grey's announcement. He was right behind them now, twirling his mustache, he wore a dark brown jacket over his black vest, the star pinned to it seemingly had seen better days. It was just too dirty and full of scratches. Probably a sign that the man wasn't the most trustable person in town but somehow Dutch had him under his thumb be it by bribing or blackmailing. He kept the man's mouth shut so he won't file any reports for the West Elizabeth Police headquarters drawing unnecessary attention to Blackwater. Grey was an opportunistic prick, always looking out for situations like these as a way to saturate his limitless well of greed. 

“Sherriff Grey,” Dutch greeted him nevertheless, his tone had never been so unenthusiastic as he motioned Arthur to get rid of him, fast.

“Sherriff,” Arthur pulled out a hundred bucks and shoved it into the sheriff’s jacket pocket, and with that Grey's eyes lit up, his face contorted into a large grin.

“Arthur, Mr. Van der Linde.” He pointed at their surroundings,” Looks like quite a situation.” 

Dutch scowled. He wanted to say that he wasn't blind and could already see how fucked up the whole thing was but he held his tongue, deciding to elicit as much information as he could. “What happened?” He asked. 

“Well the fire department confirms it was arson, plus my people found boot prints all over the place.”

 _Just like he thought._ If there was anymore suspicion, Arthur completely dissolved it by asking, “Cowboy boots?” Grey nodded and Arthur started cussing, “ Shit-eater O’Driscolls,” He spat, looking back at Dutch,“ They’re always on our toes it’s gettin' real annoying.”

“Last time they stole our cargo, now they’re blowing up the depot?” Javier added, “We gotta get them off our ass sooner or later.”

“Sooner,” Dutch responded, eyes still scanning the place, mind occupied elsewhere.

The history with the O'Driscolls went back to 10 years ago. They started as business partners, under unusual circumstances. But Colm O'Driscoll was a sinister man, their contract or whatever arrangement that was between them soon broke the moment he showed his side of savageness, kidnappings, human trafficking, illegal prostitution, all behind Dutch's back but on Van der Linde brand. From there it went downhill, trouble after trouble that in the end winded up in Colm's younger brother getting shot and a 'supposed' accident that cost Dutch the death of someone he held dear to his heart, Annabelle, his girlfriend at the time. All resulting in a signed treaty that meant nothing anymore. Dutch didn't talk about that much but it wasn't a day that all that happened wouldn't eat away at him. With the guns being stolen now the same fire he felt all those years ago had returned. 

“What’s the exposure? Officially.” Dutch asked. 

Grey jerked at his men, “Me and the fire department,” Pointing at the firemen he said, “The captain can be persuaded to rethink the report.”

 _So far nothing that didn't have a solution_ , Dutch thought, "Unofficially?"

The sherriff shrugged “Couldn’t be helped, the fire was already seen in the next county.”

 _Now that was a problem he couldn't control_. Frustration got the better of him and the man kicked a chunk violently, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath in order to calm down. It did not work. “Last thing we want is hitting the ATF’s radar. Get the firemen on board; I’ll talk to their captain.”

One step at a time. Dutch had to get his priorities straight. He needed to think before losing control of the wheel. If only Hosea didn't decide to suddenly take a break and go to see Bessie, it all would have been much easier to deal with. Now he didn't even have time to wait for the old man to get back.

Arthur's voice brought him back to reality, “Who the hell was on watch duty last night?”

Silence fell for a good few seconds. The leader of Van der Linde frowned before Javier cleared his voice.

“Sean was supposed to do it but,” He paused, and Dutch sensed uneasiness radiating from the young Mexican so he nodded to urge the man to talk “he texted me late said Bill would cover for him.”

 _Great,_ no wonder they weren't alarmed sooner. “Really Javier?” Arthur shouted, but just soon lowered his voice to avoid more suspicious glances over their way “He’s a drunkard, what were you thinking? He can’t even stand straight most of the nights, let alone keep watch!”

“I know amigo, but I was out of town, or else I would have come down here myself!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Dutch yelled, rubbing his temple, he felt like a headache was coming “We’ll talk about it later; right now I’ve seen enough of it, let’s just get out of here.” he swiftly turned on his heel, ready to storm away.

“Hold on!” The Sheriff calling caused Dutch to stop in his tracks, “There’s something else.”

“Now what?!”

“Come with me,” Grey gestured to all of them to follow him. Dutch didn't like it. He already had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't even ten minutes they'd been there yet the rush of bad news wouldn't just stop coming. Once again they stepped into the rubble of the burned building, strolling on the glass littered-floor where the windows had broken. Sheriff Grey stood in the middle, in front of him a half-burned door on the ground that led to sort of a small basement right beneath their feet.

“Help me here boys will you?” He ordered more than asked as Arthur and Javier looked at Dutch for approval. With a node from the man, they bent over reluctantly. Dutch rubbed furiously at the stubble on chin, eyebrows forming a deepened frown as the door was finally removed. It take them a second to realize what was hidden beneath, they all wrinkled their noses and took a sudden step back.

“Jesus!” Arthur put up his arm to cover his nose.

The unbearable smell burned their nostrils. It was a terrible sight. Inside two female bodies were huddled together as if hugging tightly, charred, and bloodied, their skin was completely burned. 

“Fried and refried,” The sheriff mused bluntly. 

If looks were bullets, Dutch had probably shot the sheriff quite a few times in the head. He was not amused at all. “Anyone knows about this?” 

“The Mexicans,” Javier sighed dismissively,” Part of our assembly crew,” Tearing his eyes away from the gut-wrenching scene, he said “They’re illegals.”

“Well get rid of them after the smoke clears,” Dutch had to physically keep himself from wincing in annoyance. It just kept getting better and better, “We’re supposed to deliver those guns to Lemoyne Riders by tomorrow morning. Arthur with me, Javier stay around a little longer call if you found anything else.” He said it all deadpan, mounting on bike. Backed off his center stand, Dutch dropped his weight down with a quick stomp that jolted his engine to life. He cranked the throttle with one hand, revving the bike until it roared in protest. “We’ve got to get those guns back!” He shouted before taking off. 

* * *

John pulled a face at the large buck stuck into the smashed windshield of the trunk; glass shards covered in blood sprayed everywhere, the front was a tangled mess. It was his shift at Van der Lind’s garage this morning and he was not prepared to face such absurdities before having his morning coffee yet. 

“Jesus!” He almost yelled his voice a lot coarser than usual. “The hell am I supposed to do with this?”

“Fuck if I know?” The young Irishman sniggered, leaning against the trunk, a cup of hot coffee in his hands, “Cut it in half? Didn’t Pearson need wild meat for this weekend’s dinner?”

John straightened only to throw a deadly glare at Sean. He could swear the little shit had been dropped on his head as a kid. This level of stupidity wasn't just normal. He wondered how he had survived all this time on his own, hadn't Dutch taken him in two years ago. Then again he wasn't really one to question that when he himself would have probably been dead in a dumpster down an empty alley in Chicago -be it out of hunger, getting stabbed to shot by the street gangs or simply of drug overdose- wasn't it for Hosea and Dutch. 

“Poor animal,” Sighing, John turned his attention back to the deer, scrutinizing for a way less gory to take it out. “You’re a dumb sonvabitch you know that?” He muttered.

“Oh, stop whining,” Sean finally tore himself away from the trunk, strolling without a care in the world to put a hand on John’s shoulder,” We all know what you really do for a living and it ain’t praying in church.” he winked.

“Back off will ya? ” John shoved Sean away. The younger man only laughed, wiping his hand with his jeans of an invisible grease, probably just to piss John off further. 

The throaty sound of motorcycles engines drew both their attention to the street. John looked to see two large Harley Davidson bikes approaching slowly. He watched the riders as they drove into the garage.

Sean took a step back, visibly flinching at the sight of Dutch and Arthur which was very suspicious to John. His suspicion soon replaced with curiosity as Dutch got off his bike and without so much as acknowledging them, stomped to his office only to disappear inside. Arthur however, removed his hamlet to came exactly in their direction, more precisely Sean’s direction, face reddened by both the hot sun shining fiercely over their head and probably something even more serious.

“Sean! Get over here!” He barked.

“Oi, the Englishman’s here,” A grin stretched over the younger man’s face,” What’s up with the scowl? Need an anger management coach, dontcha?”

“Don’t test me boy or I’ll make sure to feed you your teeth as breakfast!”

Sean gulped deciding in that moment to shut his mouth for once and keep a good few feet away from the bigger man as John intervened and stepped between them, “What’s going on Arthur?”

“Why don’t you ask the orange bastard?” He pointed an accusing finger at Sean, “Bailed on the warehouse watch last night!”

“Relax now,” Sean raised both his hands in submission, “I told Javier last night, something came up and I asked Bill to take over.”

“You either enjoy testing my patience, “Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously having had enough for today “or too stupid to realize why we ain’t ever leaving Bill alone as a goddamn watchman.”

“What happened to the warehouse?” Utterly confused, John asked gently as a way to both saturate his curiosity and to calm Arthur down.

“It was torched.” Arthur finally said causing John to stun into silence.

“Holy shit, by whom?”

Sean forgotten for at least a while, Arthur ran a hand through his blond hair, “Who do you think, goddamn O’Driscolls.”

“God, no wonder Dutch’s in such a foul mood.”

“That makes two of us,” Arthur spat, jerking his head to Sean, who too was in shock,” Thanks to this idiot!”

“It wasn’t my fault brother, Bill was sober when I left him there, you know with those prostitutes being there and everything.”

“What did you say?” Arthur snapped in response.

Sean shrugged reluctantly, eyes widened for the first in those few minutes, “The Mexicans.”

Anger flickering in his eyes, Arthur snapped, “ I swear to God, Dutch’ll burn the skin off your backs,” Sean’s mouth suddenly went dry before jumping as Arthur roared, “ Get the hell out of here now, go find that good for nothing sack of shit!”

Without saying another word, they both watched as Sean ran back to the other end of the shop to take out his bike. The last time they had all been this stressed was a few months back, and that again had a lot to do with the O’Driscoll motor gang, it was as if the war with them was never going to end.

“This is bad Arthur,” John suddenly said, “What are we gonna do? Wasn’t Dutch gonna make a deal with Lemoyne Riders? They’ve already paid for them Glocks.”

Shaking his head Arthur pulled out two cigars out of his pocket, offering one to John, he said “He’s already setting a meeting with Wofford, buy us some time” Lighting his and John’s cigar, he took a deep drag,” We all know if there’s one thing Dutch is always good at is talking.”

“Not as good as Hosea” John grumbled from under the breath before blowing the smoke out. “Dutch always says we can’t afford to have wars with the other gangs around Blackwater and then shit like this happen—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Arthur drew on his cigar one last time before flicking it on the greasy asphalt, “Dutch has always got a plan. “

“John!” a piercing voice drew their attention to the street.

“Shit, not again.” John cussed; throwing his arms in the air as Abigail crossed the street slowly, favoring her back. There did seem to be a slight baby bump as she got closer.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Arthur raised his eyebrows and beamed at Abigail,” That reminds me, I was supposed to talk with you ‘bout her.”, His anger from moments ago slowly wearing off. 

“Well, no need now.” John took a deep breath, throwing the cigar butt on the ground, he was ready to bounce back into the shop when Arthur gripped his arm.

“Just for once in your life John, try and act like a grown-up?”

John swirled on his heels, yanking away his arm, he retorted, “Don’t you have better things to do now Arthur?”

Arthur opened his mouth to argue but decided against it as Abigail got closer to them, “Hey Arthur”, she said, catching her breath and stepping in front of the younger man so she could look him the eye, “I need to speak with you John.”

“I don’t wanna speak with you Abigail, why don’t you just leave me alone?” John snapped back, “Go away, I’m busy.” He turned to leave but she grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

“No, I won’t go anywhere until you come with me to the hospital to take the goddamn test!”

“That baby in you ain’t mine,” Still not looking directly at her, he shouted,” Get off my back already, go lay it at somebody else’s door!” pulling his arm away harshly, he walked away.

“You’re a rotten man John Marston!” She cried, clenching her fist and stomping her foot to the ground like a child, and in a way in Arthur’s eyes she was still a child, only twenty years old Abigail only acted all tough and independent. The truth was that she was just another lost soul who took shelter in Blackwater under Hosea and Dutch’s wings.

Arthur’s eyes softened as he looked at Abigail, the girl was visibly shaking, trying hard to keep the tears in her blue eyes from falling. He sighed, squeezing her slender shoulder. He loved John like his little brother but right now with Abigail like this all he could think about was where he should punch to hurt him the most.

Her head turned slightly toward him but Abigail didn’t recoil from his touch.

“Calm down Abigail,” He said gently, “You’re gonna hurt yourself or worse the baby.”

“How can I stay calm Arthur, don’t you see what a prick he is?” She peered up at him, now losing control of the tears as they fell on her cheeks.

“He’s an idiot but you gotta take care of yourself, a’right?” He reassured her as she nodded, “ Here… I’ll… I’ll try to talk to him, I won’t guarantee he listens to me but I do my best.”

“Oh Arthur you shouldn’t be the one trying, it’s gotta be him.” Her voice was small and soft as Arthur put a hand over her shoulder and drew her closer.

“Do you want me to beat the little shit into a lump? I never miss the opportunity to do that.” Arthur asked wryly.

“Yes,” She chuckled tepidly as Arthur rocked his head from side to side cracking his neck, she leaped and drew him back, “No… I don’t know… I don’t want him to get hurt. I just want him…” She let her voice trail off, staring at the garage.

“It’s gonna be alright,” It was all he could say as he slowly reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet, taking out a wad of money. “Here, take this.”

Abigail was taken aback at that, eyes wide open in surprise as she wiped the tears with the back of her hand, “I don’t need charity, I want John to take responsibility, I don’t want him to marry me or nothing, I just need him to be a father!”

“I know but,” He took a step closer, insisting to put the money in her hand, “I want you to have it, in John’s place. Go take care of yourself and that baby.”

“Thank you, Arthur, I—“She stared at the dollars for a moment, before sniffing and smiling up, “At least I know that this baby’s got a good uncle.”

Arthur gave her a two-finger salute as she put the money in her bag, clutched it closer to herself, and walked away.

It was at that exact moment that Dutch finally flung the door to his office and stormed out. “Got a meeting with Lindsey Wofford in Rhodes, coming with me son?”

“Sure boss,” Arthur replied, following Dutch to where their bikes were parked.

* * *

Rhodes was a small town, located in the state of Lemoyne on the east side of West Elizabeth. When Dutch and Arthur were about half a mile away from it, Dutch took a turn off the main road onto a long dirt road that wound back into a thick forest. Wofford and a few of his men were only feet away, standing next to their black and red Harley-Davidsons, black leather jacks with red bandanas around their necks. Wofford wore a cowboy hat, leaning into his big bike and constantly stomping his feet to the dirt as if bored.

Dutch pulled his bike to a halt, removing his helmet and smoothing his back hair back into place as he climbed off. Arthur stopped his bike not far away, placing his feet on the ground, he stared at the armed men. There was already tension in the air and as Dutch got closer to Wofford and his gang, it rose like a high mountain. Arthur kept his hand prepared on his holster in case anything went wrong, even though he mentally prayed for whatever that was above that Wofford’s dogs wouldn’t gone berserk and start a war that was probably not good for any of them.

The man with the beard tipped his hat, an unnerving smile plastered on his sunburnt face, “Mr. van der Linde,” he announced, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Dutch maintained eye contact as he stood a food away. “ The warehouse was blown.” He stated blandly, making Wofford's smile drop.

Eyes narrowing, lines of frustration forming on the man's forehead as he took a glance over his shoulder at his companions and spat on the ground, “ You don’t certainly mean my M4s?”

“All the guns, including yours, blown to shit!” Dutch answered nonchalantly. 

Now the men behind Wofford were alerted, like dogs ready for his command to attach, Arthur drew in a sharp breath, fingers brushing over the pistol in his holster when Dutch raised his hand, in an implication for both sides to calm down. Wofford took the hint like an obligation to follow although angry he too raised his hand so his dogs would settle down.

“I paid you Dutch!” He shouted, eyes hidden beneath the shade of his hat.

“I know,” Dutch’s voice strained, cracking a little in his usual way,” But the shipment is gonna be a little late.”

“That can’t happen!” Wofford gritted in distress, “I got a shipment of my own coming this week.”

A dark chuckle escaped Dutch’s mouth as he shook his head and then raised an accusing finger,” I’m not here to ask you, Lindsey, I’ve been doing business with most of the rider gangs ‘round the county for a long time now” He paused, letting his words sink, “ I always respect the arrangement. You don’t see selling guns to the Mexicans or O’Driscolls.”

“This ain’t about respect Dutch,” insisted Wofford, “Business is business.”

“And I’m telling you, brother, giving me a few days to delivery,” Dutch cocked his head, his confidence never slipping, “Is smart business.”

Stomping his feet to the dirt, Wofford hooked his fingers in the loops of his belt, "I enjoy doing business with you Dutch, I really do but let’s be real even if you wanted to sell those guns to the O’Driscolls you couldn’t do that,” Wofford answered, baring his teeth like a wild animal, “Maybe I should forget about our contract too? Start business with them Irish next time, huh?” Lindsey paused and Arthur realized how hard Dutch was clenching his jaw in grim determination, “But I know a thing or two about respect so I’ll give you a day, I’ll have my guns by Wednesday we’re good but if I don’t… well let’s say a burnt warehouse will be the least of your problems.”

With a smile of derision on his face, Wofford tipped his hat at them and got on his motorbike, followed by his men, starting to give their bikes a few loud revs. Dutch and Arthur had to cover their noses and mouths as the men spun their wheels, and the air was filled with dust and smoke.

Seconds stretched on, as Dutch stood without flinching a muscle, staring at a road where the Lemoyne Riders had driven away and disappeared into. Arthur didn’t say a word; he had to let Dutch think. John was right, war was out of the question and Arthur doubted if Hosea was here too this conversation would have gone any differently. They had to make a wise decision now or else it could all most likely end in wasting lots of bullets and shedding a lot of blood.

“Let’s go back home Arthur,” voice loud and strong, the older man finally said, “I’ve got a plan.”

Arthur sighed, giving him a smirk before putting on his hamlet, “Better be a good one.”

“It is.”

* * *

“Today just keeps getting more boring,” Uncle said mindlessly tapping on the strings of his banjo as he tilted the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes and leaned more into the sofa, yawning.

The Van der Linde club, in center of Blackwater, was a resort for all the rough members of the neighborhood, consisting of a large meeting room, open to the backyard with a dirty saw-dust floor, containing a rickety billiard table. On busy nights, it could hold about seventy men inside, half a dozen prostitutes as well were taken into custody. Now though it was just another quiet afternoon with Uncle lounging as always, Bill Williamson smoking heavily, Sean McGuire playing darts, and Lenny Summers tapping feverishly on his laptop.

“I’ll tell you what I’m bored of,” Trying very little to stop his legs from fidgeting, Bill blew a heavy cloud of smoke, “Being laughed at,” He emphasized as Sean shrugged involuntarily, smirking and throwing another dart on the board. Bill’s frown deepened, “I’m bored of being the butt of all your fools’ jokes.” He said, smoking furiously, “ It ain’t nice, it ain’t brotherly,” Bill added, “ I mean I get it… Ooh look there’s old big Bill, look at him, ain’t he so dumb, well I ain’t so dumb—“

“Of course you ain’t so dumb, Bill,” Uncle put away his banjo and leaned in to offer Bill a comforting pat on the knee, “You’re just averagely dumb.”

Lenny and Sean sniggered at that but Bill seemed not to notice them, nodding, “Thank you, that really means something.”

Uncle sighed, “Yeah, it’s like when they call me lazy,”

“Which you are,” Lenny interrupted, exchanging a look with Sean which made Uncle frown but continued nevertheless,

“I’m not lazy; I just don’t care much about workin’. Now there’s a difference, like you and thinking, “His eyes darted back to Bill, "you’re not dumb, just don’t like thinking—”

“Horseshite,” Sean said before throwing another dart,” If it wasn’t for Bill’s dumbness, the warehouse wouldn’t have been burnt to the ground right now. “

That triggered the big man; he smashed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray almost yelling “It wasn’t my fault! I just went for a piss; it took me a minute… a _fucking_ minute!”

“Yeah?” Lenny peered over his laptop again, cocking one eyebrow he asked rhetorically, “ Then how come Sean found you near the streams? That’s like half a mile away from Blackwater?”

“You shut up!” This time Bill got up, fist up ready to strike, “Shut up! I was wasted, like you ain’t never made any mistakes in your life before,”

“Well you made a bags of things now,” Sean scowled, “Dutch won’t be happy,”

Closing his eyes, Bill looked like an angry bison, constantly gritting his teeth and refusing to look for a full minute, before he finally peeked through his eyelids, his eyes brimming with horrific anxiety, he took a step ahead but Sean held his ground. Bill opened his mouth to say something when the door to the club flung open and Dutch entered. Behind him, Arthur, Javier, and John.

An eerie silence filled the room as Dutch stood beside the pool table, brow creased, no one dared to say anything especially Bill who already knew he was the one to blame the most. Even though he was a much larger man than the man in charge, he felt so small in his presence. After what felt an eternity, Dutch took a deep breath “Table now!” he said and disappeared into the room behind the bar, where all their gathering and meetings was held.

Without starting another round of argument, everybody followed Dutch's order. The leader of the Van der Linde club took his own seat at the end of the table, already pulling out a big, fat cigar and chewing at the end of it. Arthur sat at the right side of him and John took the opposite seat, everybody else sat down and waited for Dutch to speak first.

“I got one more day out of Wofford.” He finally announced, taking out the cigar out of his mouth and examining it like it was the most interesting thing in the room.

Sounding very impatient, Arthur was the first to ask “What’s the plan now?”

“Wofford said they’re expecting a shipment, something big, probably heroin, guns are for protection.” He replied.

“What if the O’Driscolls show up, crash the dope party with the stolen M4s?” Javier asked, looking concerned.

Dutch shook his head but it was John to cut in, “ We’ll lose both the Lemoyne’s trust and the cash, buy ourselves a huge dick up on our –“

“That ain’t gonna happen!” Dutch slammed his fist on the table, glaring into John’s unwavering eyes. Tension thickened in the room, Dutch not looking particularly happy with John’s statement and John, being John, hotheaded as always not so much as blinking as if daring their boss.

“I’ll pull together all our current intel on finding them,” Javier indicated, making Dutch peel his eyes away from the younger man. 

“Go with John, “ Dutch exhaled slowly, pulling out a lighter from the pocket of his jacket, he finally lit his cigar and took a deep drag, “Lenny hack into crime databases, get addresses of any member of them you can find, I want eyes all over the town and on the outskirts too,”

“Those bastards come into our territory, they steal from us and think they can shit on our livelihood, Dutch I don’t care who I have to kill or grease, I’ll do anything.” Bill’s gruff and nasally voice made Dutch turn around, scratching his chin as he stared at Bill.

However, Arthur chose to raise his voice instead, all the while pointing accusingly at Bill, “You don’t want this dumb buffoon on the job, Dutch.”

“Fuck off Arthur, you always think you’re better than everybody else, “Bill panted like a sick dog, leaning half of his fat belly on the table, “Like ain’t nobody ever makes a mistake.”

“You’ll take care of the pyro.” Dutch deadpanned out of the blue.

Arthur’s eyes widened, not expecting this turn of events, “What the hell Dutch? He just messed up on watch duty last night, now you want him to—“

“Nobody blows shit like Bill,” Arthur couldn’t believe his ears. Dutch continued “ We need him.”

“Th-thank you man… I… I won’t disappoint you.” Muttered Bill, Interlocking his fingers together like he was praying.

“But I don’t want any more mistakes, Capish?” Dutch looked back at Arthur,” So keep an eye on him son. “

“But Dutch—“

“That’s the end of the discussion, Arthur!”

A few seconds passed before Arthur finally nodded, accepting in silent resignation, “Whatever you say Dutch.”

“Good,” Dutch puffed on his cigarette, narrowed eyes scanning the room before fixating on Sean, “You let me down son,” He said blankly. 

“I—“ Sean opened his mouth to spoke but Dutch held a hand, silencing him immeddiately.

“You were our watchman last night and you left,” Dutch’s tone was dangerously dark.

“But—“

“But _but but but_...” He said mocking,” No _buts_ , I don’t wanna hear about this Sean, I want you to stay here at the club, help Uncle tidy up the place, serve a drink or two and then we’ll see about it. “

Completely defeated, it was the first time in a long time that Sean kept his mouth shout, “Yes boss.”

With everything being dealt with, Dutch squeezed his eyes shut, letting a deep breath out as a new voice laced with an Austrian accent joined the group. 

“Herr. Van der Linde,”

Everybody looked at the door to see a scrawny man in glasses too small for his face and a case clutched into his hands.

“Straus,” With an uncharacteristic enthusiasm, Dutch beamed at the man, standing up, “ Good of you to come, we were just finishing.” He then put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, “Arthur see if Mr. Strauss needs anything, “he said, turning to the others, “The rest of you go on, we don’t have much time!”

As everybody got up to leave, Arthur started stroking his temples. The day hadn't still been finished yet he felt like he needed a twelve-hour rest already. Still, though he waited for Strauss to slither his way to him, “What is it again Mr. Strauss? Loaning?”

The man parted his turtle like lips, pushing the glasses up on his bony nose, “ You know how it is these days, people in this town trust me. They like to borrow off someone like me but,” He put a hand on Arthur’s bicep, intentionally giving it a squeeze, he said, “ More enthusiastic paying back to someone like you.”

“Don’t stall now, Who are they this time?”

“Err…” Strauss gave a small chuckle before opening the case and pulling out a thick notebook, he flipped through the pages and then stopped on one, “Mr. Wobel, runs a small bar down on Abinton street,” He looked up, something mischievous glinting in his small eyes, “ Pretty desperate fella.”

Arthur sighed, “And here I was believing that Dutch is truly helping the town’s folks.”

“It’s not illegal sir.” Strauss shrugged, “ These people already know from whom they’re borrowing money. They’re aware of the consequences. We’re just doing them a favor. “

“O’ course,” Arthur smirked, checking his watch and then straightening his jacket, he said leaving for the door “ I’ll make sure they see it in them terms then. “

From behind Arthur heard Strauss calling, “ It’s always a pleasure working with you Mr.Morgan.”

“Yeah right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter " Of Guns, Debts, and Explosions" was too long. Just too long to post, and too long to edit. So I broke it into two chapters, I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Please feel free to tell me what you think. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Ellie


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